


i want you back over again

by sungwoontv (galacticnik)



Category: NU'EST, VICTON (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, I literally wrote this for 2 people, I shan’t and more importantly I can’t, M/M, mentioned Choi Minki | Ren/Kwak Aron, mentioned Kang Daniel/Park Jihyo, mentioned Lim Youngmin/Jeong Sewoon, please don’t ask me to justify this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:35:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21998362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galacticnik/pseuds/sungwoontv
Summary: Minhyun comes back to Busan for the holidays. It shouldn’t mean as much as it does, and yet—Seungwoo reevaluates.
Relationships: Han Seungwoo/Hwang Minhyun
Comments: 5
Kudos: 27





	i want you back over again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snapchat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snapchat/gifts).



> happy birthday ree!! you keep insisting i hate you and yet i'm here, writing you seungwoo/minhyun fic. disgusting. this is whipped culture. this isn't the gift you deserve, but i really wanted you to have something to celebrate this day of your birth (let's ignore the fact that i'm one day late). more to come... perhaps... for now, i'm just sorry!! also i l*ve you.
> 
> for everyone else: small warning for (1) extremely mild mention of drug use. title is from [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XDF1ysVRqWM) song. i listened to it obsessively while writing and i think it's pretty fitting so feel free to give it a listen if you're so inclined. 

“ _Please_ , hyung.” Seungwoo can hear the pout in Minki’s tone over the phone, the none-too-gentle cajoling shattering the otherwise peace and quiet of a day promised to be free of his older sisters’ meddling. “Minhyun arrives in like an hour and I’m too busy to go pick him up from the station, and your mom said you have too much time on your hands anyway, so can you—”

“He can take a cab,” Seungwoo says, mildly put out that his mother has seen fit to characterize his much-needed vacation from his vacation as ‘having too much time on his hands.’ Granted, his plans for his brief moments of freedom (such as they are) are watching tv by himself uncontested until he inevitably gets sick of it, then ordering fried chicken when hunger strikes, but they are _his_ plans. “It’s not that far?” 

“He hasn’t been back in Busan for five years, hyung.” Minki sighs, like this should be obvious and Seungwoo is being dense on purpose. “He could get lost.”

“You don’t really forget everything about your hometown in five years, Minki.” 

There’s an uncomfortably long pause on the other end of the line. “I don’t know,” Minki says slowly. “He’s pretty much a certified idiot. And way too far up Seoul’s ass to remember where he comes from.” Seungwoo isn’t sure how to respond to that accusation, but he files it in the back of his mind for future reference. “He probably has luggage too. I’d go myself but Aron hyung is sick and his dogs need a walk and I’m tied up with that right now.” 

“I—”

“I’m literally on my hands and knees, begging.” 

“What?”

“Look outside,” Minki says, resigned. 

Phone still pressed to his ear, Seungwoo draws back the curtains covering his window to, indeed, find Minki on his knees, with the leashes of Aron’s dogs tangled around his legs. The dogs in question are wagging their tails happily. Minki looks like he’s going to cry. “Ah,” Seungwoo says. 

“One hour, hyung. I know you’re getting up there in age, but don’t forget.” Without breaking eye contact through the window, Minki gives him a deceptively sweet smile before hanging up and turning his attention to the leash situation, which turns into a ‘the dogs think he’s trying to play’ situation. Seungwoo has a feeling this will end badly. 

He’d feel inclined to help, but—“I’m only a _year_ older than you,” he grumbles. Minki can sort this out on his own, he thinks. Seungwoo will not be dispensing any wise old man advice today. 

Instead, he'll apparently be playing chauffeur for the afternoon.  
  


* * *

The neighbourhood he grew up in has always been a tight-knit one. Seungwoo never questions it too deeply. It _does_ seem a little strange that so many former high school and college friends up buying houses near each other _and_ have children close in age, but he figures it’s one of those cosmic things no one can really explain. The Hans live next door to the Hwangs, who live next door to the Chois, who live next door to the Ims, and so on and so forth, and all of them know each other. Statistically speaking, it makes no sense, and yet this is his life.

(“It’s main character privilege,” Minki says once, his eyes wide as he gazes into the abyss of forbidden knowledge.

“You’re high,” Youngmin frowns, placing a steadying hand on his elbow. “Also, uh, that’s a bucket of fertilizer, not the abyss of… whatever you were talking about?” 

“Doesn’t mean I’m not right,” Minki responds sagely. Seungwoo figures it’s best not to ask.) 

Seungwoo has two older sisters who frequently find him to be an annoying nuisance, so instead of bothering them on a daily basis, he starts hanging out with the younger kids in the neighbourhood. Everything falls into place easily after that; he’s the oldest among the neighbourhood’s rowdy boy gang, he’s drunk on his new power yet not used to being in charge which makes him just the right amount of bossy and authoritative, and he comes up with good games to pass the time with.

The others look up to him with a starry sort of admiration that somehow lasts even when they’ve left the playground behind. He’s the cool upperclassman to most of his childhood friends, the one they smugly humble brag about being close to after he drops by their classrooms at lunch for no reason. Seungwoo’s football club members ask him how he managed to collect so many loyal underclassmen, but he can never come up with a suitable response. 

The truth is far from exciting. If Seungwoo didn’t live next door to most of them, if they didn’t see each other every day, they probably would’ve never become friends. If it hadn’t been for that, he’s not sure any of his dongsaengs would’ve liked him all that much. 

After high school, they all drift apart. Seungwoo is the first to leave Busan, chasing a promising career with the K League. He’s the first to return as well, after a bum knee puts a premature end to his professional football dreams. The rest trickle home during the holidays in ones and twos when they can, no longer filled with blind, starry eyed admiration for the hyung who never quite managed to make something of himself. He’s still the oldest, but that’s about it, and others easily fill in the spaces he used to occupy.

There are exceptions, of course, to everything. In this case, it’s Hwang Minhyun. Once his biggest admirer, now his… former acquaintance? Old sport? Something, everything, nothing? Seungwoo doesn’t know how to define their relationship, but the problem is that he’s never been able to define it to begin with. Minhyun blurs every line, every definition Seungwoo clings onto. 

Out of his childhood neighbourhood friends, Minhyun is the only one who hasn’t been back since high school graduation, the only one who hasn’t seen this version of Seungwoo—less Peter Pan and more Captain Hook (minus the murderous impulses). It’s been a blessing in disguise; Seungwoo would hate to see disappointment in his eyes when they meet again after so long. 

He’s not sure why Minhyun’s opinion matters so much when—well, he thinks ruefully, he knows _why_ , he just doesn’t see the point in admitting it to himself anymore. 

* * *

Seungwoo arrives at the station half an hour early in a borrowed car (Aron’s, but he doesn’t think he’ll be driving it anytime soon). He’s prepared to wait, but Minhyun’s train arrives not long after. It’s either a stroke of luck or grave misfortune—a flip of the coin, with Seungwoo waiting to see which side it lands on. He’s not exactly nervous about this reunion, but he can’t deny a small degree of apprehension. Five years is a lot of time; everything could have changed.

Suitcase in tow, Minhyun emerges from the station, bundled up in a mahogany jacket with a bright red scarf wrapped around his neck. His eyes sweep around for a moment before landing on Seungwoo, who greets him with a small wave. For a second, Seungwoo worries he might turn back, but then Minhyun’s eyes light up and— _ah_ , Seungwoo thinks, as Minhyun drags his suitcase over to where he’s parked. Five years can change everything, but not how he feels. 

Once Minhyun comes to a stop, he pops the trunk of the car open and helps load his luggage into the vehicle. It’s fairly light, as if Minhyun only packed the bare essentials, or isn’t planning to stay long. Seungwoo knows he should ask if only to make polite conversation, but his tongue feels heavy and coarse in his mouth. This kind of awkwardness, at least initially, is _normal_ , he reminds himself. It’ll fade soon enough. 

It isn’t until they hit the road that Seungwoo finally breaks the silence. “Your head is as big as ever,” he blurts out, then winces slightly and pretends to be focused on the road ahead. Perhaps not the best opener, but when he gives Minhyun a sidelong glance, he observes the corners of his mouth lift in amusement. 

“That’s the first thing you say to me after five years?” 

“It had to be said,” Seungwoo replies solemnly, keeping his own expression neutral. Maybe he’s grasping for familiarity by pointing out the one thing about Minhyun that has stayed the same over the year. The person sitting beside Seungwoo blowing gently on his pale, bare hands isn’t the gangly and awkward one-time bike thief from his childhood. Or he _is_ , but he doesn’t look it. Seoul’s been kind to him. “I have gloves in my pocket, if you’re feeling cold,” Seungwoo adds. 

Minhyun studies him for a second, his smile giving way to a softer expression, though his eyes are otherwise unreadable. “Thanks, hyung.” Reaching over, he tugs the gloves from the pocket of Seungwoo’s jacket and slips them on. “My hands are dry and ugly. Sujin will lecture on the importance of daily skin care when she sees me.” 

Sunhwa and Jiyong would too. “ _Sisters_ ,” Seungwoo says sympathetically, and Minhyun lets out a chuckle. “But hey, what happened to your satoori, imposter?” 

“I lost it?” Minhyun says uncertainty. “It’s easier to—well, Seoul’s different.”

Seungwoo doesn’t say anything, just remembers Minki claiming Minhyun was ‘too far up Seoul’s ass.’ They talk a lot more, he supposes, so Minki would’ve known. He wonders, then, when he and Minhyun stopped talking. It must’ve been a while ago. “How do you like it?” Seungwoo asks, once the silence has stretched on a few minutes past uncomfortable. “You’re working for an entertainment company, right?” 

“As a music producer, yeah. How did you—”

“Your mom talks about it all the time,” Seungwoo says, holding back a laugh at Minhyun’s look of surprise. “She doesn’t listen to much of the music, but she’ll brag about it every time she meets someone new. I think she’s proud.” 

“I wish she could be proud just a little more quietly.” Resting his head against the window, Minhyun turns pensive. “It’s nice, though. I appreciate the creative freedom and I’m happy I get to express myself and have people hear what I have to say, even if it is filtered through the idol industry.” He sounds content, and Seungwoo envies his peace. Silence settles between them again until Minhyun clears his throat. “What are you doing these days?” he continues, straightening up to study Seungwoo’s profile. 

“I teach at our old high school—physical education, and I’m the adviser for the football club.” It’s been a while since he’s had to describe what he does. The last time was at an uncomfortable blind date orchestrated by one of his sisters. The woman he was meeting hadn’t seemed impressed when he said he was a teacher. 

Minhyun is quiet for what seems like an eternity. “It suits you,” he says eventually, and Seungwoo is prepared to call bullshit, but when he looks over, Minhyun has a faraway look in his eyes, his lips twitching as he undoubtedly imagines Seungwoo as a teacher. Whatever self-deprecating thing Seungwoo was about to say about the merits of teaching compared to being a hotshot music producer die in his throat, a comfortable and familiar warmth spreading through his chest instead. 

“Hm, I think so too,” Seungwoo says, swallowing thickly. The car feels a little hot and uncomfortable. He tugs at the collar of his sweater for a moment, quickly yanking his hand away when Minhyun peers at him in concern. “It took me a while to get there, though.” Seungwoo doesn’t often talk about the self-loathing, the sleepless nights, the countless weeks it took to stop being angry and learn to be happy with what he had, but that doesn't mean he can pretend it was never a part of him.  
  
“I’m glad you did in the end.” There’s a quiet earnestness in Minhyun’s voice, maybe some sympathy too, as if he knows exactly how much Seungwoo has lost and exactly how much this acceptance cost. If Seungwoo ever had to tell anyone, he would’ve picked Minhyun, but then again, he’s not sure how happy he’d be exposing the barest parts of himself to the man. 

He doesn’t want Minhyun to pity him. 

They chat a bit about inconsequential things: Minhyun’s failed attempts to raise succulents in Seoul, Seungwoo’s nephew’s failed attempts to steal the Kangs’ new cat, and Minki’s failed attempts to get Aron’s dogs to listen to him. Despite the somewhat ominous theme of their conversation, Seungwoo is able to get Minhyun to laugh, and not his fake canned laugh but the real thing. Its cadence hasn’t changed, and neither has the way Seungwoo’s pulse reacts to the sound, too fast to be merely friendly. 

“How come it took you so long to come back?” Seungwoo asks finally, once things have settled again. He wasn’t planning it, had resolved to not be curious, but with how familiar this— _this_ , talking to Minhyun, teasing laughter from him, having him near—feels, Seungwoo has to know what kept Minhyun away, and if it really was—well, _him_.

Minhyun presses a palm to the window, his mouth parted as he absorbs the question. Then, a beat too late, “Ah, well, you know how it is. Work. And I needed to—” Halting, he glances at Seungwoo out of the corner of his eye and smiles enigmatically. “I suppose I had to work up the nerve.” There’s more he seems to want to say, but for now it has to do. 

Seungwoo decides not to push. “Whatever the reason, it’s good to have you back, Minhyunnie.”

“It’s good to be back.” Minhyun rubs his hands together, then adds, so softly Seungwoo could’ve dreamt it, “I’m happy to see you again.” 

His grip on the steering wheel tightens, but he doesn’t say, _yeah, I’m happy too._

* * *

“So, Hwang Minhyun,” Sunhwa says gleefully, not even bothering to hide the fact that she’d been watching Seungwoo drop Minhyun off in front of the Hwang house. “He grew up well. He’s gotten a lot more handsome than before, hasn’t he?”

 _He was always handsome_. “Yeah, he has. He’s really my type,” Seungwoo admits absentmindedly, then stops halfway to his room and whips around. “Please don’t tell Sujin noona I said that.” 

From her perch on the couch, Sunhwa cackles. “No promises! Well, maybe if you grovel on your hands and knees first—”

“You have a _kid_ now,” Seungwoo drags a hand down his face. “Please act your age.”

“Did you just imply I’m _old_?” Sunhwa’s tone turns dangerous, and Seungwoo is forced to perform a Mission Impossible-esque acrobatic move to avoid the pillow that soars in his direction. 

“This is why Jiyong noona is my favorite!” He shoots back over his shoulder before sprinting for the safety of his room. 

* * *

Seungwoo doesn’t see Minhyun again until later in the evening, when they’re all supposed to meet for drinks at a neighbourhood bar. It’s within walking distance, so Seungwoo makes the trip alone, enjoying the scarce few minutes of solitude before he wades into the unique atmosphere of their rowdy group’s get-togethers. 

He’s the last to arrive, a fact none of them fail to call him out on. Minki and Aron are seated together, with the latter wearing a mask and looking a little out of it (“Cough medicine made him a little loopy,” Minki says in a stage whisper). Beside them are Youngmin and Sewoon, who both greet Seungwoo with a smile. Youngmin’s is a little relieved, clearly saying, _thank god I don’t have to be the responsible one here anymore_. They’re holding hands under the table, which is a little sweet. Miles better than Daniel and Jihyo who seem to be playing footsie under the table, a fact Seungwoo is uncomfortably made aware of when Daniel accidentally slides his foot up Seungwoo’s leg seductively, then blushes and apologizes profusely for while Jihyo laughs. 

Minhyun is the only one not paired off, and after the footsie fiasco, he catches Seungwoo’s eye and scoots over to make room for him. Seungwoo sinks down beside him gratefully, a relieved sigh escaping his mouth only after he has a beer in hand. His neighbourhood gang is… chaotic, to say the least, but he’s never felt as much at ease than when he’s with them. “I love you guys,” he says, glancing around the table. 

“You’re not even drunk yet,” Minki points out, bringing his own glass of soju to his lips.

“Seungwoo hyung is so good… so pure…” Daniel looks like he’s about to burst into tears, and Jihyo discreetly swaps the glass of wine in front of him with her glass of water. He doesn’t seem to notice. “We love you too.” 

It’s easy to fade into the background after that. Seungwoo drinks, laughs, and listens to his friends regale them with stories of their (far more exciting) lives. He doesn’t have much to contribute himself; things haven’t changed much around here, and he’d rather hear about their adventures instead. 

Minhyun is similarly tight-lipped—not that Seungwoo has been paying special attention, but his contributions are few and far between. He seems content to sip on his drink (and Seungwoo starts a little at that, because since when does Minhyun drink _alcohol_?) and answer direct questions, but beyond that, he mostly just reacts to other people. 

Seungwoo isn’t staring. He might be, but it’s the alcohol’s influence and not just him being creepy. There’s something to be said about how Minhyun draws his eye even in a crowd, and it’s not entirely the novelty of him being here for the first time in so long either. Maybe, if he were being honest with himself, he’d face the fact that he still has—

“I’m not with anyone,” Minhyun says, exasperated, knocking back the rest of his drink. Seungwoo starts and pulls himself out of his thoughts and back to the conversation at hand, which seems to be… an inquiry into Minhyun’s relationship status? Spearheaded by Minki, of course. Seungwoo busies himself with peeling off the label on the bottle of beer, feigning disinterest. “I’m too busy to date these days,” Minhyun continues. “I haven’t really found anyone who’d make me want to try.” 

It is enough for Minki, but a moment later, Sewoon pipes up, his eyes wide and inquisitive, “Didn’t you and Seungwoo hyung date before?” 

At the sound of his name, Seungwoo’s head jerks up. “No,” he and Minhyun say in unison. They trade looks, Minhyun’s face pale and bloodless, before turning away, both clearing their throats awkwardly. “ _No_ ,” Seungwoo repeats. “We didn’t.” He reaches for another bottle of beer and hopes no one notices his shaky hands or hears the rapid beating of his heart. 

“Not for lack of trying,” Minhyun says quietly. Seungwoo’s grip on the bottle slackens, then tightens again as he pretends not to have heard. Minhyun sounds so forlorn that Seungwoo feels the instinctive need to apologize, but what good would apologies do for them now? 

“You’re both single now, though!” Daniel says, picking up the thread. “You’d make a hot couple.” 

“I think Minhyun is out of my league these days,” Seungwoo laughs, taking a sip of his beer. “But it’s alright. I won’t hold it against him.” No less than what he deserves, really. The conversation moves on after that, jumping from topic to topic so fast that Seungwoo can barely keep track of it. He supposes he might be a little buzzed, but being buzzed is easier than dealing with… Minhyun, the past, and everything else. 

When he finally decides to look over, he finds Minhyun studying him over an empty glass, his face pensive, a little strained, like he’s in pain and doesn’t want to admit it. “Did you have too much to drink?” Seungwoo asks, frowning, stretching a hand out.“Your ears are _red_.” 

Minhyun recoils, his hands immediately flying to his ears. “I’m fine,” he says, his voice oddly strangled. “But I—” He breaks off and blinks slowly, seemingly thinking better of it. “Sorry. I think I’m tipsy.”

“You and me both, then." Seungwoo pushes his half empty bottle away and nods at Minhyun's glass. "You might want to ease up though, or I’ll princess carry you home. That’s a promise, not a threat, okay?”

Minhyun stares at him for a long time, then cracks a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

* * *

Later, after he’s helped a sick Aron drag a completely _wasted_ Minki home, Seungwoo stands in front of the mirror above his sink and studies his tired reflection.

_Didn’t you date before?_

He can see why people might have thought that, but he and Minhyun didn’t. They were an almost that never quite made it all the way. It was all Seungwoo’s fault, really, but remembering as much is not fun in the slightest. He splashes water over his face in an attempt to forget. 

“We didn’t, huh?” he muses. Seungwoo wonders where they’d be right now if they had. 

* * *

Seungwoo runs into Minhyun often during the following week. So often he’s sure both their respective sisters are _conspiring_ against them, but Seungwoo doesn’t fight them on it too much. Perhaps he’s happy to have excuses to spend time with Minhyun, to catch up without really having to acknowledge the fact that they have a lot to catch up on. At the end of the day, it’s just his company Seungwoo is eager for. There was a time he’d just taken it for granted, but no longer. He knows it’s a precious commodity. Maybe he’s learned something. 

“Five years,” Seungwoo laments in the midst of accompanying Minhyun on errands, looking appropriately despondent. Minhyun shakes his head, fighting back a grin. “Five years without your electrifyingly scintillating company—“

“However did you manage,” Minhyun responds dryly.

“Every single day was _agony_ ,” Seungwoo responds, without missing a beat. “I was forced to watch Saturday morning cartoons alone, Minhyunnie. Digimon _without_ your commentary? I almost gave up.”

“You could have just left the childrens’ cartoons to the children. Or watched with your nephew?” 

“It had to be you,” Seungwoo says seriously, and Minhyun’s expression flattens into something inscrutable before morphing back into a slightly tired, if fond, smile. 

In between all the errands and frequent dinners and time spent doing nothing in particular except talking with the ocean as their scenic background, Seungwoo gets used to having Minhyun around again. It’s easy to be with him, like stepping back in time. He doesn’t feel ancient and tired and washed up in his presence, another figure to be pitied, the one person from their neighbourhood who could’ve been more than he is now. He just feels like Seungwoo, no pretenses, and when Minhyun looks at him, he feels seen, no pretenses. 

There’s a reason Minhyun used to be his shadow in high school, and there’s a reason Seungwoo kept him around. It had nothing to do with childhood loyalties or proximity or anything of the kind. 

He doesn’t admit as much to Minki on one of his rare Minhyun-free days, over brunch with him and a fully recovered Aron. “Stop talking about that stuff,” Seungwoo groans. “I’m sure Minhyun would rather people forget too.” He’s not sure he could explain it if he tried. 

“Okay, but the way Minhyun stuck to you was kind of cute!” Minki insists. “Pathetic, but cute. Until he just stopped, one day. What happened, anyway?” Minki’s eyes are too bright, too knowing, and Seungwoo dodges the question in lieu of answering it, turning the conversation to Aron’s start up business instead. 

He doesn’t like to think about it. 

* * *

‘Home for the holidays’ implies that everyone will return to their homes eventually, even his sisters and their families. As much as Seungwoo craves respite from his relatives, he knows he’ll miss them once they’re gone. He’s aware, too, that his friendships will be put on pause soon enough, to be picked back up whenever everyone comes back to Busan. In ones, in twos in threes, but Seungwoo will be here to greet them with a close-mouthed smile that betrays nothing.

It gets lonely, he thinks, to be the only one left behind. He’s gotten used to it for the most part, but this year—this year he’s looking even less forward to the day everyone leaves than normal, and it might have something to do with the fact that Seungwoo doesn’t want to go back to a time when Minhyun isn’t here. He had five years to get used to Minhyun being gone, and it took only one week to undo that. 

He wonders how Minhyun would respond if Seungwoo asked him to stay. 

But Minhyun has a life in Seoul that Seungwoo isn’t a part of, and Seungwoo accepts that. He accepts his role as the purveyor of childhood nostalgia, a relic from an older time. He just needs to cherish the time he has left with Minhyun, and give him a reason to return next year, but he can’t ask for more.

Seungwoo wonders if bribery would work. They’re in the neighbourhood toy store, searching for a present for Minhyun’s nephew. He’d carelessly broken his action figure earlier in the morning and called Seungwoo in a panic, begging for help. Minhyun still has the action figure’s remains clutched in his hand, but instead of looking for a replacement, he seems enamoured with a disturbingly familiar figure that has Seungwoo both laughing and crying. 

“Is that for your nephew?” Seungwoo asks, coming up from behind to rest his chin on Minhyun’s shoulder. Minhyun jerks, but doesn’t pull away from the contact. 

“It’s… nothing.” Biting his lip, he waits until a crowd of kids passes by before saying, “ _Fine_.” His ears are flaming red, and he avoids meeting Seungwoo’s gaze. Fairly, since if he turned his head, they’d be close enough to kiss, and this is a toy store. Seungwoo would rather avoid that. “I wanted to—I collect—I just don’t have this figure yet, but it’s f—”

“Okay, Optimus Hwang.” Seungwoo straightens up and reaches for the box, ignoring Minhyun’s yelps of protest. “Let me buy it as a gift for you.”

“ _Your_ birthday just passed, not mine. And I didn’t even get you anything.” 

He wonders how cheesy it would be for him to say, you brought yourself, or something similar. Too cheesy, too soon, too much. “Let me buy it for you anyway,” Seungwoo says. “Make it up to me later. Next year?” 

Maybe he sounds too hopeful, because Minhyun opens his mouth to say something else, then snaps it shut and smiles a little sadly. “Next year,” he says. “It’s a promise.” 

They eventually find the replacement for Minhyun’s nephew’s destroyed toy and head to check out. Seungwoo lets Minhyun go first, then breezes through his own purchase with a wink and a grin. When the lady at the counter asks who the Transformer figure is for, he says, “A good boy,” and the corners of Minhyun’s mouth twitch.

On their way home, Seungwoo pushes the bag into Minhyun’s arms and stretches, only half paying attention to Minhyun’s words of gratitude, until—“You’re annoyingly nice sometimes." 

Glancing over his shoulder, Seungwoo sees Minhyun struggling and slows down his stride enough for him to catch up. He takes both the bags too, and Minhyun gives him a grateful grimace. “See?” he continues, gesturing to the space between them. “I used to find it gallant, but it was frustrating as well.”

He’s at a loss. “In high school?”

“Yeah,” Minhyun exhales. His hand is on Seungwoo’s elbow and he’s not entirely sure if Minhyun is trying to root him in place or wrestle the bags back from him. A moment passes with the two of them frozen in place, then Minhyun pulls away with one of the bags in hand and starts walking. “It took me a long time to stop reading between the lines of everything you did for me. Not everything was a coded message of—” He stops himself, but they both know how to finish the sentence. 

Seungwoo swallows, then speeds up to fall in stride with Minhyun. “Ah,” he says, because he can’t say anything else without sounding like an ass. “I’m sorry?” 

“It’s not your fault.” Minhyun looks strangely defeated and tired, as if those few words took all the energy he possesses. “Not entirely. I think I was a little too intense. I believed so strongly in what I wanted that I convinced myself it was true.”

“Love’s like that, I guess,” Seungwoo says. “I don’t know. I’ve never—“ The lie sticks in his throat. “How do you not hate me?”

“Maybe I do and you just don’t know it,” Minhyun says with a shrug, but his tone is light and teasing. His eyes say, _I could never._

“I suppose I really am the Megatron to your Optimus Prime,” Seungwoo says finally, drawing on his limited latent knowledge of the Transformers franchise. 

Minhyun groans. “Don’t ever say that again.”

“You don’t want to offer me key exchanges anymore? Brief teasing flirtatious bursts of data?”

“Talking to you about Transformers fanfiction was a mistake,” Minhyun says, but he’s laughing, his shoulders shaking with the force, and Seungwoo watches him, wishing he could admit that whatever Minhyun wanted in high school was the same as what he wanted too. 

* * *

The night before Minhyun is supposed to depart for Seoul, he invites Seungwoo out for one last drink, just the two of them. It’s a farewell of sorts, ending the visit with the person who started it. Tucked in a booth near the back of the pub, Seungwoo doesn’t know what to do with the air of melancholy hanging over their heads. This was always going to happen, he reminds himself. Minhyun was always going to leave. What reason does he have to stay? 

“Excited to be going back home?” Seungwoo asks finally, nursing his drink close to his chest. Might as well rip the bandaid off and get into it. 

“Mhm. I don’t know.” The fact that Minhyun is on his second glass of whatever he’s drinking should theoretically be alarming, but Seungwoo is too rattled to suggest he switch to water. “I thought I would be dying to get back to Seoul, but Busan is—” His cheeks are the same shade as his ears, and Seungwoo finally makes an attempt to pull his glass away only to receive a glare in response. “I was really not looking forward to this trip, actually, but now I wish I had a couple more days.”

“You could stay a bit longer. I’m sure your mother would be happy to put you up for a few more days.” Seungwoo would be happy too. It’d be unfair to bring that up, though, so he remains silent. He doesn’t want to force Minhyun to search for crumbs in the midst of everything else Seungwoo says. 

“It wouldn’t change anything. I’d still feel the same way two or three days from now.” 

“Like you don’t want to leave?” 

Minhyun is quiet. The silences in their conversations, the pauses stretching between topics have never bothered Seungwoo in the past. He appreciates the fact that he can enjoy Minhyun’s company even in moments like these. But today, he squirms, waiting impatiently for more. “Do you remember,” Minhyun begins finally, then stops. Starts again once he’s had a sip of his drink. “In high school. Do you remember when I confessed to you?” 

“I—” Seungwoo’s drink sloshes over the lip of the glass and onto his hand, but he makes no move to mop it up. “Uh, yes? Why?”

“Do you remember how you rejected me?” There’s no condemnation in Minhyun’s voice, no anger. No real sadness either. His tone is even and controlled, with an edge of wistfulness Seungwoo doesn’t know what to do with. “For the longest time, when I thought of Busan, I remembered you telling me you weren’t interested in me.” 

Seungwoo gathers his wits long enough to say, “I didn’t mean to sound so harsh.” 

“How else could you have said it? It was the truth.” Minhyun swipes at the side of his glass with his thumbs, working at an invisible stain only he can see, or avoiding Seungwoo’s face. “I didn’t want to come back, but then my friend convinced me that maybe I _needed_ to for closure, but—” He inhales sharply and looks up. “But now when I think of Busan, I just think of you. _Us_. These moments.” Downing the rest of his drink, he adds. “Feels like home. Seoul isn’t.”  
  
Seungwoo doesn’t ask if Busan feels like home, or if he does, or if they’re even different in Minhyun’s mind. “Is that why you invited me out today? For closure?” He wouldn’t—he can’t blame Minhyun if that is the case. You have to close one chapter of your life to start another. Seungwoo understands that better than anyone. 

“I don’t know,” Minhyun admits readily. He stares at the bottom of his glass, then shakes his head and reaches into his pocket for something. Seungwoo’s gloves—the ones he lent Minhyun after picking him up from the station. Minhyun sets them down in front of Seungwoo and stands, swaying only for a moment before regaining his composure. “Thank you for keeping me warm this winter.” He hesitates. “I’ll… miss you.” 

Seungwoo’s mouth is dry. “Me too,” he says, before he can think it through. 

Minhyun nods once in acknowledgement. “Be happy,” he says in lieu of farewell. 

* * *

Seungwoo’s not sure when it started. 

Sometime between middle and high school, if he had to guess. His neighbourhood friends began to feel less like playmates and more like a responsibility, save for one. Minhyun’s always been the closest to him in temperament, the one he’s always felt like himself around, whether they’re hunkered down in Seungwoo’s house watching Saturday morning cartoons or searching the neighbourhood for rusted bikes they can sell to the junkyard for enough cash to buy one order’s worth of _tteokbokki_ to split. 

It’s Minhyun he really craves admiration from, out of all of them. It’s Minhyun he strives to amuse, Minhyun he helps with projects in the middle of the night, Minhyun he’ll stop by the middle school to walk home with, slinging an arm around his shoulder casually as if to show that _yes, they’re that close_. It’s Minhyun he buys gifts for just to see his face light up, acts dumb around because he knows Minhyun’s equally as much of an idiot. 

It’s Minhyun he feels something in his chest for. Not heartburn like his grandfather thinks (his grandfather always thinks it’s heartburn) but something else, something he recognizes between dating his second girlfriend and his third one. Seungwoo thinks he sees it reflected back in the looks Minhyun sneaks at him during lunch, the not-quite-but-nearly-there petulant slant to his mouth when Seungwoo begs off their plans to go on a date, the way he cheers himself hoarse during Seungwoo’s football matches and runs up to him after, breathless with anticipation and glee just to say, “You did good, hyung!” 

Honestly, it’s nice. It’s _nice_ to be loved without having to give much in return. Minhyun is a constant in his life, there through the girlfriends and the bad grades and the year Seungwoo’s team wins their regional tournament. He never asks Seungwoo for more, and Seungwoo isn’t prepared to give when what they have works for them, but he thinks eventually he’d like to figure out a way to be with Minhyun.

But then his knee becomes a problem and Seungwoo becomes embittered and angry and Minhyun’s attention, his concern, which was once so welcome starts to feel suffocating. Disappointment and the throbbing pain in his knee turns Seungwoo cruel, but Minhyun stays by his side anyway and Seungwoo thinks, _you really deserve to love and be loved by someone better than me._

Months before Seungwoo’s high school graduation, Minhyun asks to meet in the school’s courtyard after their club meetings. Seungwoo knows what it’s about, just as he knows Minhyun chose the courtyard for it instead of the roof because Seungwoo is still relatively fresh from his first knee surgery and it still hurts him a little to climb all those stairs.

There’s a letter in Minhyun’s hands. He looks outwardly calm, but Seungwoo can recognize the tell-tale signs of nerves from where he stands. For a brief moment, he wonders _why now_ , but it makes sense. Graduation feels like an ending of some kind, but Minhyun wants to make it a beginning. “I have something I wanted to tell you,” Minhyun begins, his words wavering. “Seungwoo hyung, I’ve always—”

“Don’t do this to me, Minhyunnie,” Seungwoo says abruptly, a little coldly. “Don’t go there. Please.” He’s shit at keeping up the act, and his voice cracks on the last syllable. “I can’t.” 

“Just let me finish,” Minhyun pleads desperately. 

“I’m not interested in you.” Might as well rip the bandaid off fast, Seungwoo thinks. Might as well get it _over_ with. “I’m sorry, but I’m not.” The lies tumble easily from his mouth. “Not like the way you want me to be. I don’t want to—I hate this part, you know? Rejecting people. But I—”

“Seungwoo hyung—”

“I admire your courage? I respect it. I just feel like you should’ve saved it for someone other than me.” When he finishes, he sees Minhyun looking at him with quiet devastation, his brows knit in an effort to keep from crying, and Seungwoo feels like a Disney villain of the highest level. 

“I don’t want you to _respect_ my courage,” Minhyun bites out eventually. The heat in his voice is better than grief, but maybe Seungwoo is grasping at straws. “I just wanted you to _hear_ what I had to say.” He crumples the letter in his hand and closes his eyes. Seconds pass before Minhyun snaps them open again and turns away. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize,” he says, looking back at Seungwoo’s strained expression before fleeing. 

Seungwoo tries to justify his rejection a thousand different ways in the following weeks. It doesn’t make sense to give a relationship with Minhyun a shot so close to graduation. They’re both planning to leave, to be more than their neighbourhood, more than their city, and he doesn’t want to be held back. He’s scared that the farther away they get geographically, the more quickly Minhyun will realize he doesn’t actually care about Seungwoo. Minhyun deserves more, and Minhyun deserves better than what Seungwoo can give him. Maybe it’s a combination of all the above to varying degrees. 

(It’s never because Seungwoo doesn’t feel the same about Minhyun.) 

They go back to friends eventually, once tentative apologies are made. Seungwoo’s the first to extend the olive branch, and Minhyun is gracious enough to forgive him. Things between them barely start to feel normal again when Seungwoo leaves for college, and after that, they fade out of each other’s lives completely without even trying to.

Seungwoo expects the feelings to fade along with Minhyun, but they don’t. He learns to be less honest with himself, pretend whatever emotions he has don’t matter, pretend that the biggest regret of his life aside from his botched career isn’t his premature rejection of Minhyun’s confession. He gets good at it, but—

If he could go back in time somehow now, he knows he’d say, _I like you too_. 

He wants to say, _I like you too_. 

* * *

Sunhwa informs him (courtesy of Sujin) that Minhyun leaves in a couple of hours, and adds that if Seungwoo doesn’t go talk to him first, she will gently and lovingly beat his ass. “I’m tired of seeing you mope around the house,” she complains. When Seungwoo whines at her, Sunhwa’s expression softens. “Being honest for once in your life isn’t going to kill you.” 

Seungwoo covers his face with a cushion and lets out a high-pitched dolphin scream. 

Sunhwa’s right, however. Seungwoo isn’t eager to add another regret to his list by letting Minhyun leave like this, all their history lying unacknowledged between them. He doesn’t want Minhyun to—he shouldn’t let Minhyun—go back to Seoul under the mistaken belief that Seungwoo cares for him just as a friend when the truth is that friendship is only the least of what he feels for Minhyun, even after all these years. 

He doesn't hope for reciprocation or anything. This could just be closure for the both of them. But he feels compelled to say something before another five years pass and Minhyun becomes a representation of everything he could've had but was too scared to reach for.

With a vaguely defined plan in mind, Seungwoo swipes the cake Jiyong made earlier and heads next door, looking a lot more confident than he feels at the moment. Minhyun answers the door, the bruises under his eyes standing out against his pale skin. He’s ready to dismiss whoever is on the other end until Seungwoo says, “Hello.” He lifts the box in his hands. “I stole Jiyong noona’s cake. It’s a peace offering.”

“I didn’t know we needed to make peace.”

“It could be a goodbye present?”

Minhyun scoffs, then rubs his eyes. “You only ever bring over cake when you want to talk about something.”

 _Right in one_. Seungwoo enters the Hwang house without being prompted, but Minhyun makes no real effort to stop him either. Closing the door behind them, Minhyun makes his way to the kitchen with his arms crossed over his chest and watches Seungwoo uncover the box. “Want me to cut you a piece?” Seungwoo asks. 

“I can do it myself.” Minhyun grabs a knife from the drawer and waves Seungwoo aside, cutting two perfectly proportioned slices while Seungwoo pulls out a couple of plates and sets them down on the table. “I’ve been handling knives without too much bloodshed for years now.” 

He believes Minhyun, but steps out of range of his extremely sharp knife just in case. “Remember when you were a kid and needed my help using scissors because your mom thought they were dangerous?” They were safety scissors, but Seungwoo wielded them like a knight wields a sword on behalf of their liege lord. “You were so cute back then.” 

“Back then?” Minhyun asks, raising an eyebrow as he takes a bite of the cake. 

Seungwoo grins. “You’re still cute, I guess.” 

He sees Minhyun stiffen before forcing out a smile. "Empty words." 

"I can't deny it’s all I have to offer." Jiyong's cakes are, as always, delicious. Perfectly light, with icing that melts in one's mouth. Seungwoo devours half his slice in silence before broaching the topic he's here for, that Minhyun knows he's here for. In the absence of alcohol, he hoped the cake would give him courage, but it might’ve done more harm than good. Ignoring the rising nausea, Seungwoo sets his fork down heavily and says, "I've been thinking a lot about high school after last night."

"Why would you subject yourself to that?"

"I enjoy hurting myself." He can’t pretend it never happened, or that it never meant anything. “Specifically over that day in the courtyard. I have regrets about how I handled that.”

“Don’t. You got the message across efficiently.” Minhyun laughs, the _ha ha ha!_ that sounds rehearsed and false. Seungwoo hates the sound of it. “Once I had some time to calm down, I felt like you were trying to be kind. I should thank you for that much.”

Seungwoo doesn’t want Minhyun’s gratitude, not for this. “I should’ve listened to what you had to say first. I should’ve read your letter.” Would it have changed his mind? Would it have kept him from rejecting Minhyun? Would it have made him waver? “Do you still remember what you were going to say?”

Minhyun frowns. “I don’t think it matters now.” 

“It does to me. Please.”  
  
A crease forms between Minhyun’s eyebrows as he sets his empty plate down. “I… don’t know. I was going to say I liked you, I suppose. That I had ever since I was a kid, before I even knew what liking someone meant.” He rubs his chin, deep in thought. “I was going to tell you why—because you’d always been there for me for as long as I could remember. Because you were _caring_ , even when you were trying not to be. Because you were everything I wanted and everything I wanted to be.” Letting his arms fall to his sides, Minhyun gives him a rueful shrug of his shoulders. “I was going to say that I didn’t need you to like me back, because it was never really about that. I wanted to tell you what was in my heart, and maybe just hear you say, _thanks for loving me_.” 

“Ah.” Is a confession supposed to hurt this much? Seungwoo rubs his chest absentmindedly, his grandfather’s voice yelling _heartburn!_ in his ears. He wants to say that he doesn’t deserve it, that his past high school self wasn’t worthy, and that he _still_ isn’t worthy. “It’s late,” Seungwoo says after a pause. “But thank you for loving me.” 

Minhyun laughs again, a hollow sound that rings through the kitchen. “Are you trying to give me closure before I leave ?”

“Not exactly.” It would be nice if Seungwoo were that selfless, but there’s a selfish streak in him that burns strong when it comes to Minhyun. “I’m trying to figure out how to tell you that I like you.”

Moments pass in silence, with Minhyun frozen in place and Seungwoo’s heartbeat pounding in his ears, until Minhyun lets out a shuddering breath. “This wasn’t part of the script.”

“It wasn’t?” Forced levity doesn’t suit him, but Seungwoo keeps his tone light as he traces a pattern on the surface of the table, avoiding Minhyun’s eyes. “So like me to veer off without warning, isn’t it? But I like you, both then and now.”

“Why are you saying all this now?”

“I didn’t think I could let you leave without being honest. I don’t want to add onto my list of regrets.” He looks up with a twist of his mouth. “I had reasons to reject you back then, or I thought I did, but when I look back at them now, they feel like flimsy excuses. They don’t _matter_.” Maybe it’s perspective, or maybe Seungwoo’s faced five years of loneliness and decided the benefit outweighs the potential consequences. Maybe it’s none of that. Maybe he just _really_ likes Minhyun and needed the reminder. Who knows? Who cares? “I know there are reasons why this is a bad idea even now: you’ve moved on, you live in Seoul and I’m here in Busan, and I should’ve told you the truth much earlier to spare you from heartbreak, but none of it matters.” 

“You have the worst timing,” Minhyun says finally. He studies his hands, expression unreadable, and Seungwoo feels, inexplicably, hope unfurl in his chest. 

“It’s a gift.”

“Return it.”   
  
“I really can’t.”

Minhyun sighs and raises his head to meet Seungwoo’s eyes. “I leave in two hours.” 

“I know.” He’s aware. He’s aware that Minhyun needs to return to Seoul, that this is dumping a lot on him with no time to really process it. He’s aware that in a way, this is pointlessly cruel. “I don’t need you to like me back. I don’t even need the thank you. I just wanted to confess for myself.” 

“I wrote a song for you,” Minhyun says abruptly. He plays with his cuffs. “Several of them, actually. One of them even charted for a while.” His fingers still. “Every time I thought about you, or missed you, or allowed myself to wonder if you’d ever change your mind, I’d write my feelings down and hope that one day you’d hear them and—” He breaks off. “I didn’t plan much beyond that, but I trusted that everything would fall into place if it was meant to be.” 

Seungwoo can still sense it, that little bit of hope that says, _this time will be different_ and _none of this sounds like a rejection_. That little bit of hope whispers, _you could try again_ and _get it right this time._ “Are we meant to be?” 

“I keep wanting that to be true.” Minhyun straightens up, takes a step forward cautiously. His eyes are bright, a warm brown Seungwoo could happily sink into. “I keep wanting, but I don’t want to delude myself.” 

“You’re not.” Seungwoo takes a step forward too, meeting him halfway. “You never were.” His fingers reach up to brush against Minhyun’s cheeks. “Keep wanting, because I want you too.” Minhyun opens his mouth to say something, but Seungwoo beats him to it. “And right now, I think I really want to kiss you.” 

“Asking for permission? How chivalrous.” The corners of Minhyun’s mouth lift. “You don’t have to ask. My answer will always be _yes_.” 

It’s not a sweeping, grand moment. Five years worth of waiting and anticipation should, perhaps, lead to something more frantic, desperate, but Seungwoo’s alright with easing into it, with savouring the sensation of Minhyun’s mouth against his. It feels right. It feels perfect. It feels like it's worth the wait. Seungwoo’s eyes are crinkled into a smile as he pulls away, while Minhyun looks slightly punch-drunk, as if he can’t quite believe it himself. 

“Worth it?” Seungwoo asks quietly, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Minhyun’s. 

“Mhm.” Minhyun exhales. 

“What an ambiguous noise.” 

Minhyun’s shoulders shake with suppressed laughter, but he doesn't pull away. Closing his eyes, he leans in further, sinks into Seungwoo. "I think," he says evenly, "I'll stay for a couple more days." 

Seungwoo pulls away. "I thought you said nothing would change if you did." 

"It might," Minhyun smiles, the light of it reaching his eyes for the first time in so long. “If you kiss me again.” 

_Ah_. “That I can do,” Seungwoo promises. “That I can _definitely_ do.”

* * *

"The next time you have some kind of big romantic revelation," Sunhwa tells him later, "Make sure you're actually alone in the house first."

"Sujin noona didn't—"

"Sujin will bill you for the therapy she now needs after watching you try to eat her little brother's face." Sunhwa laughs at the horror on Seungwoo's face and reaches over to pinch his cheeks. "I'm happy for you both, though." 

Seungwoo scratches his cheek, unable to hide his grin. "Thanks."

* * *

What's in a year? 

Train rides, Seoul's busy streets, Minhyun's roomba interrupting them at the most inopportune moment. Saturday morning cartoons in Seungwoo's room, award winning songs about love, family dinners with Sujin looking at them nauseously across the table. Holding hands during early morning walks, Seungwoo's colleagues teasing about his new boyfriend, kisses that say _I'll miss you_ and _don't leave_ and _I love you_. 

Minhyun returns for Seungwoo's birthday the next year, as promised.

(The next, and the next, and the next too.)

**Author's Note:**

> i felt my soul leave my body while tagging this. 
> 
> i did not come up with the transformers key exchanges thing. it's a reference to a fanfic that i don't want to talk about. as an aside, i did not know transformers fanfic existed but you best bet minhyun has read some!


End file.
